Envie de Vert

Lupin took in her surrounding silently, though there was little else silent about the room. French women of every order seemed to fill every corner, though there were but five of them. Each surface was draped with a different cloth of some rich and wonderful colour. Each tone shimmered and deepened – there was no black, no gray, no dank colors of England; every shade bespoke seasons and sunlight, promised seduction and delight. Lupin’s eyes looked steadily at an apple green that sat forgotten in a corner. They narrowed, and then lowered, her spine stiff. The mayhem continued about her unabated, the chatter and the exclamations of wonder and disparagement. In the corner, Uncle Mortimor and Lord Maximilien conversed together calculatingly: Uncle Mortimor lowering his head consideringly as Lord Maximilien spoke something softly and brightly in his ear, looking pointedly towards Lupin.
Suddenly Lord Maximilien’s voice rang out like a small bell in the room, “Essayez le vert. Le vert! Le vert!” The apple green was brought over and draped consideringly over Lupin’s shoulders, brought under her chin, and someone softly piled her hair upon her head. Lord Maximilien clapped his hands, “Exactement! C’est parfait – et, je suis certaine,” he continued, turning gracefully with his cane, and pointing to a flame-colored silk, “Le rouge aussi. Il n’ya pas de doute. C’est fini.”
“No,” said Lupin quietly.
Lord Maximilien turned towards her, his eyes sparkling oddly, “Qu’est-ce que ca, mon enfant?” he questioned very politely. “I will not wear the green – le vert – ce n’est pas possible,” she spoke slowly, her French a little painful, but dignified and steady nevertheless. “Ce n’est pas possible,” she said again, her eyes softer, her spine still very straight, “je m’excuse.” Her head lowered, but she raised it again, pushing up her chin. Uncle Mortimor was watching her strangely; he rose and came to his friend’s side. “L’oblige, mon ami,” he asked, putting his hand on his friend’s slight shoulder. “L’oblige.”
Lord Maximilien looked piercingly at Lupin for a very long moment. Something undefinable changed in his eyes, and his lips smiled softly, “Le vert,” he said, quietly. “But for your own use only,” and his accent was very strong. Lupin held her chin higher. “Thank you,” she said simply, and stepped from the stool.